Upon the Wings of the Shadow
by VaderDidNothingWrong
Summary: "Dracula, in the name of my mother, I will defeat you again!", that had been the last words bellowed by the protector of humanity as he faced the devourer of worlds in their final clash. But now sinister forces stir and rise from their graves, thirsting for power and blood. What will the man named Alucard Tepes do in a world where evil chokes the air itself? (Rated M for gore)
1. Legacy of Darkness

**Yeah I have no idea what I was thinking either, let's just wait and see what even happens with this story. I'm going to include lots and lots of Castlevania elements, but change around lots of things so it doesn't feel like awkward.**

* * *

Morris ran as the darkness chased him.

His feet crashed into the hard stone floor as he frantically dashed through the long stone hall. His lungs were a furnace, a burning feeling growing from his chest. His terrified and staggered breaths echoed in the cavern.

But he knew that he had to keep going, death would be preferable to the fate that awaited him should he slow down. He heard Hunk squeeze a couple of shots out into the darkness with his cannon, barking curses as the mechanical chatter filled the corridor.

"Just a bit more," Morris panted out to his partner as he continued his frenzied run, "the transport is just up ahead!" They would be safe from the creature's grasp if they made it up to the surface. But dread spilled into his heart as he heard a screech. It was close.

It was catching up.

The air seemed to grow colder as time went on, vapor billowing out of his mouth. It was supposed to have been another easy job. Just some other dusty ruins to raid for riches. And for a second he had been right, the tomb was rich and laden full of gold and such other things.

But then he had seen the coffin.

It had been a regular old coffin, nothing really eye catching about it. Only that it had a combination of padlocks and chains surrounding it, making it seem as some kind of cocoon. His interest had sparked, something of value must be inside for all of that extra security.

Promises of riches had lead him to brandish his bolt cutters. It had taken quite the amount of efforts to cut through the thick and heavy chains. But he had noticed something quite peculiar. The chains were actually made of twinkling silver.

Then they had opened the coffin to be greeted by disappointment insides of the coffin was curiously made out of mirrors. Inside they had found only a dusty corpse that was surrounded with crusty bandages. On closer examination the bandages had some strange writing on them, but Hunk had dismissed them as something traditional. Nothing else. Nothing except wooden stake dug into the corpse's chest.

But then something curious happened. Something that Morris simply couldn't understand. Something started to draw him to the wooden stake. It seemed like the world had vanished itself. He was in a dark void alone with the coffin. Nothing else mattered anymore.

The simple wooden stake mesmerized him. It spoke of promises. Riches, power, women, everything that Morris had ever wanted. He would be powerful, a good between men. Nobody would be able to oppose him! He would be a king, a god amongst men!

But only if he pulled out the stake.

It was just a simple stake, what could even happen? Morris chuckled to himself, it wasn't as if the corpse would rise up and throttle him for tearing it out. He stooped down, his hands slowly wrapping themselves around the stake. He then grunted, attempting to pull it out. But to his mild surprise something pricked him, a splinter had managed to pierce through his gloves. Morris watched as his blood slid down the stake, right into the withered corpse.

That was when the creature awoke.

Morris had thought that it couldn't be real, it was just another children's tale to coax troublesome children to sleep. He had even heard a couple of stories from his mother about this terrible creature. He had brushed them aside as a joke when he had taken the job. But the creature was real.

And it was chasing him.

And it was hungry.

But hope flourished in his heart as he saw the transport awaiting in front of him. He felt a final burst of energy coursed through him, a final desperate attempt at grasping his freedom. Morris ran faster than he had ever done in his life. Hunk was still roaring and shooting into the darkness, covering his retreat.

Morris dashed right into the transport, wheezing and shaking. He then turned around, watching Morris retreat from the approaching rush of shadows. "Run!" Morris wailed to his friend in despair.

Hunk was fast, but the shadows were faster.

Then a terrifying screech emanated from the approaching shadows. Morris then felt himself seized up, as if invisible chains had been wrapped around his frozen body. Something was whispering into his ear, insidious remarks pouring into it. The same voice that had tricked him.

In horror he saw a hand moving towards the door. He then realized that it was his own. It was as if he had been turned into a puppet, unable to control himself. Only his hitched shaky breath came out as he tried to scream. He could only watch as his hand grabbed the door's handle.

Hunk was close enough for Morris to be able to stare into his eyes. He watched fear, confusion and anger flicker across those familiar eyes as Morris' arm slammed the door shut. Morris felt himself regain control of his body as he collapsed, and Hunk's shrieks rang through the thick steel of the transport.

The small round glass window on the door suddenly was splattered by crimson as Hunk's shrieks suddenly stopped. Morris regained his bearings as he shakily scrambled back to his knees. "Oh god." he stammered as he lunged to the control panel, slamming the ignition.

The transport rumbled to a start to the relief of Morris as it started climbing up through the rails that lead out of this damned place. He felt himself collapse again to the ground, tears streaming down his face.

"Oh god," he sobbed as he curled up in the ground "sosorrysosorrysosorry." He felt something rise up as he remembered of the gushing blood in the windowpane. The vomit spilled out of his mouth as he continued shaking on the ground. Broken sobs mixed in with the rumbling of the transport.

It was supposed to be impossible, just another legend. He remembered as Nana had told him these stories besides the crackling fireplace. The werewolves from Atlas, the mummies from Vacuo and the ghosts from Mistral. His teeth kept chattering as he pulled himself up to lean up against the wall. He tried to calm himself and think rationally. He had to get out of this place and warn everyone.

 _Kish._

He gasped in fear, slowly turning towards the door. His breathing suddenly stopped. The glass pane had a small crack. And that small crack was slowly growing.

Morris cried out as he felt his knees fail him again, crashing against the chair. He frantically scrambled to the corner of the room. Cold sweat dripped down his cheek and onto his neck as his frenetic breathing seemed to choke him.

The crackling of the glass continued, as if something was pushing against it. Morris could only watch as the crack ran through the glass. He then shrieked as it suddenly burst open and peppered him with shards. He fell clutching at his bloody face, the cuts stinging all over it.

He groaned as he felt all of the cuts crossing through his face, blood dripping into the floor. He knew those cuts were pretty bad, blood flowing freely as if from a fountain. But he froze as he heard a dreadful screech ring through the door. He slowly turned around. Then something burst from the darkness and grabbed him by the throat.

Morris screamed as he saw those two dreadful red slits glowing in the dark, staring at him. He struggled to get free of the creature's' grip but to no avail. The thing kept staring at him, as if examining him. The blood from his cuts dripped into the creature's arm.

The creature's eyes seemed to be drawn to the blood dripping down his arm. A row of ghastly teeth revealed themselves from the darkness. They were smiling as the creature lunged. The last thing the screaming man felt was something digging into his neck.

* * *

 **Thank you for taking your time to read this, if you do have anything to add on please do take your time to leave some feedback.**


	2. Rude Awakening

**I don't own the RWBY and Castlevania franchises.**

The man woke as the world started to fall.

His eyes burst open as the mausoleum rumbled. His body was in pain, his muscles seemingly screaming as he slowly raised himself from the coffin. He stumbled out of the coffin as dust and rubble started to fall. The tattered curtains crashed down in a cloud of dust. The beautiful stained glass collage depicting a rose bathed the room with a kaleidoscope lights. His foot knocked over the remains of expended candles as he staggered around, trying to regain his bearings as the earth shook.

He looked around as the dark walls started to crumble, looking for some exit. The door stood at the opposite wall. He tried to make a run for it but collapsed in his efforts. He felt so weak, muscles aching and limbs feeling like mere threads. The man groaned as he grasped the edge of the stone coffin, shakily standing up. He had been sleeping far too long, and hadn't had the time to recover.

The man attempted to hobble to the door, clutching at his wheezing chest. But before he could reach it a mass of tinder and stone that used to be part of the roof crumbled in front of his outstretched hand, collapsing the door. He cursed, steadying himself against a nearby candelabra.

He frantically looked around for another mean for escape. The dark stained walls surrounding him were all made of solid cobblestone, impossible to trespass in his current state. The window was still there, somehow not shattered in the quake. The man hobbled towards the window with grunts of pain.

He tried pushing against is to no avail, his arms frail and weak. The man then stumbled as the ground under him shook again, bringing even more rubble crashing down from the roof. A brick fell down, crashing besides him.

He dropped to his knees, frantically searching around. His hands manage to grasp a fist sized rock, his fingers wrapping around it. The man then staggered back to his feet. He faced the window and with a strained cry flung the rock at the window. The beautiful window of the rose shattered, the shattered rainbow of glass raining down outside.

The man staggered as he tried to climb through the shattered window sill, hissing in pain as the broken shards dug into his hands and feet. But he stopped himself as the sun entered his eyes, shielding them with his withered pale hand. The warm sunlight stung his features and eyes, blinding him with its radiance. After blinking a couple of times he looked down and cursed once again.

The drop was enormous, a sparkling moat twinkling underneath him. In his surprise he staggered back from the window. He then felt something tap him in the shoulder. As he jerked around and backed away, his eyes widened as he saw who it was. "You?" he rasped.

It was a floating white mask, the most noticeable feature was a great crack running down the mask. The cracks were around the mouth, it almost looked like a leering grin. The mask's body was a trailing black cloak, flowing as if the wind was blowing through it. It was a familiar visage, one the man thought that he would never see again. A clawed, black hand slowly raised itself, pointing behind him. The man once again turned around, looking at the shattered window behind him. But when he raised his gaze again, the figure was gone.

The man looked around to see another way to escape, but. found nothing except for the window. He grimaced quickly reached into his shirt, grasping a silver cross that hung from a chain on his neck. He held it in his hand for a second, taking a deep breath as he felt the familiar prickling in his hand. He then ran to the windowsill, his muscles burning as the ground started to collapse. With a leap he launched himself out of the window into the air.

The man fell a long way, the air rushing past him in a flurry. He was quiet the whole way down as his hair whipped around. The mass of blue quickly flooded his vision, rushing up to meet him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then it all went dark.

Flames.

The dark sky swirling with the cinders and smoke.

Terrible screams echoing.

The raw and acrid smell lingering through the air.

The smell of blood.

Her.

Her final caress.

And the eyes.

Those terribly sad green eyes..

The twinkling silver necklace.

A woman's voice.

 _Come on._

 _Wake up._

 _Please._

 _Wake up._

Something bright.

Then it all went dark.

The man gasped and sputtered as he woke up. He felt himself shaking as he started coughing, his lungs crying out for air as he continued to cough. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, his body convulsing.

When the coughing finally subsided the man gasped for air, wheezing as his lungs felt like a furnace. After regaining his breath he rubbed his eyes, sitting up as he took in his surroundings.

To his surprise he was in a bedroom of some kind, sunlight filtering through a clear window that lit the room in a warm yellow glow. He was nestled in the bed, the soft blanket covering most of his prone body. The bedside table had a vase of sweet smelling flowers. His eyes then spied a small mirror besides the vase, gingerly picking it up and examining himself.

He looked haggard, just like a scarecrow. His yellow eyes had great dark bags under them, his white hair seemed shaggy and hung from his head like a dirty mop. He hissed as he tried to stand, clutching the side of his chest. He removed the white cloth shirt to see that his chest was covered in bandages. His sleep had not done him well.

The man grunted as he tried to lift himself despite the burning pain in his chest, arms trembling. He grunted as his arms failed him and he dropped back onto the bed. He stayed there this time, trying to remember what had happened. He struggled to remember anything in his feverish state. He had been woken up, then….

He blinked.

He had been woken up.

The man grunted, suddenly finding the energy to sit back up on the bed. He held up his hands in front of him. He sighed as he laid back down on the floor, back softly hitting the bed. He was awake again. But why?

But his thoughts were interrupted as he heard the door creak open. His head snapped around to see a plump short woman standing there, holding a basket full of fresh bandages. She seemed startled to see him awake, her eyes widening.

But a smile appeared on her face as she quickly set down the basket besides his bed and came to his side. "Why hello sleepyhead!" she said with the big smile. "We were quite worried that you might have gotten really hurt," the woman said as she lightly patted him on his back. "I'll go get the doctor, you stay right here sweetie!"

The chipper woman had left in a hurry, seemingly eager to get the doctor. The man was a little bit flustered, unable to get a word out during that whole conversation. He sighed as he looked around the room again.

He looked upwards to the bedpost to see his blade hanging off his tattered belt. A sigh of relief left him. He reached over, grunting as he managed to grasp it. The familiar weight felt good, as if greeting an old friend. He unbuckled it and held it above him. The wings of steel sat on the crossguard, glinting underneath the sun. He clasped the sword's crimson leather hilt and drew it out.

The great curved longsword, Crissaegrim, slid out with hiss, the silver blade glinting brightly in the sun. He lowered it in front of him, staring into it. His reflection stared back, his golden eyes peering back. He wondered how long he had slept for.

But there were much more pressing matters. He had been awoken for a reason of utmost importance, there wouldn't be any other reason why he would have been summoned and awoken from his slumber. But who, and why?

Another thing also bothered him. The Lost Soul had been there in the tower with him. The creature that had led him in his first crusade through Castlevania, when he had been a young man seeking revenge. It would always appear and disappear wordlessly, every single time. The man frowned. He thought it had disappeared after the Mirror of Fate had been shattered.

Did this mean that the Mirror of Fate had somehow returned, and alongside it, the Lost Soul? After all this time, why would it be there? Why was it still helping him? And what was it?

The man sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He could worry about that later. He had to accept that being conscious again was a pleasant experience, barring his rough awakening process. Right now he had to find out where he was. Suddenly, as if on cue, somebody knocked on the door. Trevor quickly sheathed the blade and hung it back again.

His musing was interrupted as the doctor entered through the creaky door. The doctor had grey wispy hair that sat under a frayed green hunting cap. He also wore a white cloth shirt with suspenders. The doctor dragged the chair to the bed's side, resting his arms on the back of it as he faced the man.

"Are you feeling well?" the doctor said with a warm smile that cracked his wrinkled face, "Any difficulties at all?" The man simply shrugged, but in the process felt a sharp jab of pain in his ribs making him grunt. The doctor chuckled as he made him lay back down. "Ah, you young ones and your pride, reminds me when I used to be young."

The doctor then withdrew a small rectangular object from his pocket. He pressed a yellow diamond button on it and to the young man's surprise the rectangle lit up, displaying a wall of texts and a myriad of diagrams. The doctor ignored the young man's surprise as he swiped through multiple images and texts.

"You were in quite the shape young man." the doctor sighed as he handed the scroll to the young man. The young man awkwardly accepted it, eyes scanning on the magical marvel he had just discovered. It seemed that the world had moved on ever since he had gone to sleep. The doctor swiped through different photos, showing the young man's pale chest covered in bruises and scars.

"In some morbid fashion, you were quite the fascinating subject," the doctor said as he plucked the tablet out of the young man's hand. "At least twenty percent of your body tissue is covered in scar tissue ,and you have second degree burns all over you." The doctor eyed him as he took off his green cap. "Are you some kind of Hunter boy?"

The young man simply shrugged. The doctor's eyebrows rose in a quizzical manner, looking at him. The doctor then broke the gaze as he leaned back on his chair, giving the young man a smile again.

"But all of that aside," the doctor said as he stood up from the chair, "it seems that I have forgotten my manners in all of this excitement." The doctor gave a curt yet formal bow to the young man. "Cornelius Cerise, at your service." He then extended his hand towards the patient, "And what would your name be young man?"

The young man accepted the handshake.

"Trevor," the young man said "Trevor Belmont."


	3. Announcement

**Ey lads, it's your boy, "I haven't updated the fic for over a year oh what the hell."**

 **In all seriousness, with the new RWBY Volume 6 reigniting my interest in the franchise I have decided to continue this fic, but with a couple of tweaks to chapter 2.**

 **Not much has been changed, so if you want to read those changes by yourselves you're welcome to. But with the people that don't want to do that and just want chapter 3, I've basically taken out the whole story element of Crissaegrim having a voice (Which in retrospective was pretty stupid idea tbh) and replaced it with the Lost Soul of Castlevania: Mirror of Fate. If you are not that familiar, just give the Wiki page a quick look-over.**

 **If anyone is still interested in this fic, please do let me know.**

 **And yes, I'm really sorry for not saying anything and just going dark for over a year. But I'll try to update the story at a** ** _moderate pace._** **(College is hard chief.)**

 **With that out of the way, lets get back right into the mess.**


	4. A Fateful Meeting

**RWBY and Castlevania aren't my property. Yadee yadee yada.**

The humans were the first to die.

The party had entered the dark room, ever alert. Swords had slid out of their sheathes, shields brandished and bows strung.

But it didn't matter, as they soon found out.

Their first warning was a shriek and a spurt of blood. They barely had time to turn around as his body collapsed in a shredded mess, a fountain of blood.

Then the others fell one by one, assailed by the swooping shadows. The air glittered as silver flew in every direction, the weapons of the men slashing and waving in the darkness.

But it only did so much. One by one his cohorts got pulled into the shadows, the only things they left were pools of crimson.

He turned around frantically, reaching for outstretched hands that would be immediately pulled out of his reach.

He then soon found himself alone, surrounded by the ruined bodies of his comrades. The sickly smell of blood filled the room.

He then reached to his hip, but soon found out that his sword was not there. Something then cracked from the darkness.

A twinkle in the dark then flashed out and he suddenly felt a sharp pain course through his chest. He looked down, and to his horror he saw Crissaegrim buried on his chest. It sprouted in blue flames, swirling and spreading onto him.

He roared in pain, the sword smoldering in his chest. He tried to pull the blade out, but it only elicited even more screams from him as the smoke of scorched flesh swirled through the air.

He then froze as he heard a cackle ring from the darkness. He turned upwards in horror to see a hand surface from the darkness.

The hand reached from the darkness and ripped the sword from his chest his chest, the blood pouring out in a torrent. He shuddered and gasped as he fell to his knees.

He groaned, his hands uselessly trying to ebb the flow. He then fingers curl around his chin, softly lifting his head

It was a familiar face, not one he could forget.

It was his own, snarling at him with bared fangs. But his face slowly started to twist and to contort, shifting into another familiar face.

Dracula snarled back at him in glee, gripping Trevor's neck and lifting him up.

"You can't run from what you are Alucard," Dracula grinned, "you'll learn that soon enough."

With that Trevor died again, bleeding out on the cold marble floor.

Then it all went dark.

* * *

Trevor jolted awake, his hands tearing out Crissaegrim from its sheath. But he then realised that he was alone in the room, the only thing besides him was his shaky breaths and the darkness.

He took a moment, panting as the sweat dripped down his clammy face. His hands then slowly reached upwards towards the necklace, his shivering hand gripping the silver pendant. Trevor took a moment to steady his breath. He slowly stepped out of the bed, laying the sword on the bed. With that he crept towards the window.

The shattered moon above him glowed. The silver rays of the moonlight sifted down through the dark night, like an artist's strokes on a black canvas. The wind softly sighed. The fluttering leaves swept through the air. He then reached down his shirt, bringing the pendant towards his eyes.

The silver shone underneath the moonlight, the small red ruby in the middle of the simple cross. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

" _You can't run from what you are, you'll learn that soon enough."_

He then remembered those sad green eyes.

He gritted his teeth, his hand squeezing the pendant. "No," he growled, "I am not you."

* * *

Trevor stepped out of the doorway, narrowing his eyes against the bright sunshine of a summer morning. The pack was slung over his shoulder, Crissaegrim hanging from his hip.

He turned around towards Cornelius who was standing underneath the doorway, the smoking pipe resting from his hand. A small frown formed on his face, "You should at least rest a spell longer lad. Your wounds haven't healed completely."

"I greatly appreciate your offer sir, but I'm afraid I must leave." Trevor said as he shook his head. "As I have stated, I have certain urgent affairs to attend. It would do me more harm if I stayed" Cornelius harrumphed as he crossed his arms. "Bah, young folk these days." he spat a while walked towards Trevor. "No patience at all, always on a rush."

So," the old man asked, "Where are you planning to go?" Trevor blinked, a small frown forming on his brow. Where was he planning to go?

He knew that he had been awoken for a reason. He had only confided a select few people on how to release him from his slumber. But that had been centuries ago, as much as it saddened Trevor, most of them wouldn't have lived that long. All his friends, all of his contacts were nothing but dust now. He stood there, rubbing his chin as he wondered. Then an idea formed in his mind. There might be at least one person who could have lasted all of those years.

Cornelius then sighed, placing his weathered hand on Trevor's shoulder as his face softened into a small smile. He reached into his pocket, taking out a small folded piece of paper and handing it to Trevor. Trevor unfolded it, revealing a map with scrawled directions towards a city.

"It's directions for Vale, the nearest city from there." Cornelius said. "You'll find a place named From Dust Till Dawn, a Dust shop that my friend owns. He'll help you if you say that I sent you. Don't know where you're going, but Vale is as good as any place to start."

Trevor looked up. A rare smile appeared on his face as he faced the kind doctor. "Thank you sir, you have been incredibly kind to me. I'm afraid I don't have the means to pay you ba-" Cornelius then interrupted him with an exasperated sigh, waving his hand in front of his face. "I'm a doctor, helping people is what I do you buffoon." He then sighed as he adjusted his cap again. "Just do me a favor and try to not get lost."

Trevor gave the old man a nod. Then in a silent exchange they both turned around, Cornelius heading back into the house as Trevor turned towards the road. He checked if everything was in order in his pack. He then checked his gear, fiddling with his gauntlets and adjusting Crissaegrim. With that set, he began to walk down the gravel path.

 _Wonder if he still drinks that much coffee._

* * *

It had been a long way, twisting paths of dirt and gravel intercrossing themselves. Trevor kept thanking Cornelius as he peered into the map, walking down the grassy plains. It would have taken quite a while for him to be able to find the city. Then slowly but surely the grass was replaced by stone paths. Before he knew it Trevor found himself going over a hill.

He then saw Vale.

He first rubbed his eyes, thinking that he was imagining things. He blinked once again, looking at the great stone spires stabbing into the skies. He saw giant winged contraptions flying across the sky lazily, as if fish in an ocean. Bright lights emanated from the city, twinkling like stars in the growing dusk. How long had he been sleeping? Decades, centuries, eons?

Trevor shook himself out of his of the trance. If he was going to find the man he was searching for, he could probably find his whereabouts in the city. He took a deep breath, channeling the reservoir of magic inside of him. He felt himself get enveloped with a cold sensation, his body morphing painlessly. Then, a small bat fluttered towards the city of Vale.

* * *

Trevor fluttered into the alleyway, perching himself onto the brick floor. The body of the bat was suddenly encased in pitch black shadows, but then began to grow into a humanoid shape. And as the shadows quickly disappeared from the shape as Trevor emerged. He quickly exited the alleyway and briskly began to walk towards his destination. His brief flight into the city had made it easy for him to find the shop that Cornelius had told him about. After a couple twists and turns he found himself in front of the shop.

The shop's name was written in faded red font, the small stains on the store's front showing its age. The lightbulbs hanging on the front lit up the place, casting shadows in the night. The shop's windows had a myriad of Dust appliances, crystals, books, tools, cartridges, and scales. Trevor checked the map once again, making sure he had the right place. With that done, he walked over and pushed the door open.

The small bell on the door tinkled as Trevor walked in. He then noticed a couple of things.

He noticed a quaint little shop, wooden walls and floor. On the walls were a set of tubes containing different colors of powdered Dust, glittering in a rainbow with their unique colors. Several other shelves with appliances were scattered around the the shop. He also noticed a man in a pitch black suit flying across the room. Alucard merely leaned to the side as the man crashed through the door.

And then he finally noticed the hooded girl with the scythe. And she was flying straight at him.

 **Finally, the interesting part begins. If you have any good feedback lads, please, do make it known in the review section.**


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